


To Face Unafraid The Plans That We Made

by Penstrokes_and_Daydreams



Series: Far Cry 5 Christmas Jukebox [2]
Category: Far Cry (Video Games), Far Cry 5
Genre: But they aren't addressed, Christmas fic, Enemies to Lovers, F/M, Fluff, Getting Together, Hints of John's many Issues, Nudity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-04
Updated: 2020-12-04
Packaged: 2021-03-09 20:39:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,359
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27872418
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Penstrokes_and_Daydreams/pseuds/Penstrokes_and_Daydreams
Summary: Things Rook expected from the holiday armistice: snow, sleep, and an uneasy peaceThings Rook did not expect: whatever it was that's happening between her and one John Seed
Relationships: Deputy | Judge/John Seed, Female Deputy | Judge/John Seed
Series: Far Cry 5 Christmas Jukebox [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2033305
Kudos: 21





	To Face Unafraid The Plans That We Made

**Author's Note:**

> Walking in a Winter Wonderland!
> 
> My mom likes that song. Anyways, here's part 2 it wasn't actually supposed to take this long to post. It was a lot of fun though.

The armistice that Joseph had insisted on- loudly and frequently, by all manner of communication still available to Hope County until Jerome, Eli, and Whitehorse had agreed to terms- for the Christmas season had led to a confusing time for the cult and the citizens alike. Rook had to admit, though, that the switch from all out war to being a keeper of the peace had been nice. So had not running for her life on a regular basis and not getting driven off the road straight into a tree. John Seed had been a nice, if unexpected, bonus. Initially she’d shown up because her old apartment complex was considered Peggie turf and the least- she figured- John could do was put her up for a while in the spirit of giving, and it kept her close to the Ryes without putting her underfoot. They’d managed not to kill each other for two whole weeks before what she was now calling ‘The Incident.’

‘The Incident,’ like she could bottle up and explain away how she and a mortal foe had been watching movies on the couch and laughing and then something just clicked and they’d gone from making out on said couch to making out on the bed to… Nobody had an accident that ended with them naked in the bed of somebody who, a few months ago, was doing their dead level best to kill them. There had just been something in the way he looked at her, something weirdly tender and vulnerable, like he was enraptured and terrified of it all at once. 

He was looking at her that way now in the dim sunlight creeping under the shade, still laying on the pillow with his hair all fluffy and mussed, blue eyes fixed on her as his hand wandered up and down her spine. It confused her. She pulled her knees up to rest her elbows on them, hiding her face in her hands. The worst part, the part she kept thinking about, was that she didn’t do this because she wanted a quick fix to her emotional mess, or because John Seed was, insanity aside, very much a tall drink of water. There were feelings, and not all of them were the bad kind. While she was living with him she got to see sides of him she hadn’t expected: he sang to himself while he worked and he was always working because he was terrified of coming up short or disappointing anyone, letting them down. He like period dramas more than any other genre but hid them behind his law books so Jacob wouldn’t find them and give him grief. He wasn’t just the Herald, the Baptist, the monster. He was a person she actually liked being around, a person who made her feel soft things she refused to name.

“They’re going to kill us.”

“They, my dear?”

She waved a hand, “The Resistance, the cult-”

“Church.”

“-Church. Your brothers.”

John just snorted, “Hardly: they’ll be thrilled. You’re a very popular topic of conversation at family dinners.”

Normally that kind of thing made her laugh, now it just twisted her insides in knots, “They aren’t going to make you atone for this? For lust?” Aside from the tattoos, his body was covered in scars, too; down his back, across his thighs, and a few parallel, even ones on his upper arm. She didn’t like the thought of him adding more to the collection.

With a stretch and a groan he sat up behind her, bare chest against her bare back. He took one long breath of the scent of her hair, “Lust is a sin that must be atoned for, yes, but love is a gift, a blessing. Love is pure, where lust is not. And this isn’t lust, is it, deputy?”

He always sounded so in control, so poised. It would have been easier for her if he just went and carved letters into her instead of making her wade through all this. But it wasn’t lust, that much she knew, so she shook her head. He pressed a kiss to her temple.

“I have something for you for Christmas.”

Apparently the conversation was over; John wasn’t processing the things she was. Or maybe he was trying to distract her, because he was kissing her shoulder now and his hand had moved from her arm to her knee, under the sheets. She considered for a moment.

“If that’s your way of asking for round two…”

“Two? I think you lost count, my dear. But no, it isn’t.” He leaned back and she missed the warmth of him instantly- the physical warmth, because it was cold. Only that.

When he leaned back over to her he let something fall over her neck. The cord was soft leather but what was hanging on it was freezing and made her squeak when it hit the skin over her sternum. John caught it in his hand and pressed a kiss to the spot it touched. The combination of the cold of the metal and the heat of his mouth did funny things to her insides. Once he opened his hand she saw what he’d given her: a house key.

“I don’t know what you’re going to do when this armistice is over, but I hope you come back.”

She picked up the key and rubbed it with her thumb, keeping her eyes intentionally off of John and that open look on his face, the way his eyes were on her like she’d save him. Rook couldn’t save anyone, not even herself.

“I don’t know what’s going to happen either. I can’t do what they want me to do to you. There’s no telling what they’ll do if they find out about this.”

“They won’t from me,” He swore, “I won’t do that to you. But there will always be a place for you among our people and with me.”

He had sat a hand on the side of her face and she leaned into it. Up until the start of the Reaping they’d spoken half a dozen words to each other over the years, then they were on opposite sides of a war.   
It should have been easy to leave; she should have already left, gone with the morning back to the Rye’s and pretended she’d only ever fought John about kidnapping and looting and not about which door to put a wreath on. These stupid feelings she caught couldn’t be good in the end.

“Come and see, see who we really are, Rook. Next week come with me just one day.”

“One day,” She agreed before she even considered it. It was hard not to when he was asking her like that, passionate and soft and aching.

John leaned up and kissed her with the same kind of desperation. She chased his mouth with hers but he pulled away, sitting back again. The view, at least, wasn’t bad. He had a lot of tattoos she never knew about.

“I think Joseph knew. He saw what we could become.”

“Could?”

“The Father sees a number of possible futures, the outcomes that could change them. He told Jacob this armistice would be the difference in my life.”

Rook let herself fall back onto the bed and John followed, “It’s just so hard to believe.”

“That’s what faith is for.”

Laying there side by side with him, playing with his hair, it was easy to believe in fate. She could believe she was meant to be here.

“It is that time of year.”

John smiled, “So it is. Are you hungry, my dear? I’d hate to think I was neglecting my duties as a host, and I make fantastic omelets.”

Pressing his knuckles to her lips, Rook nodded, “But I’m not getting out of this bed without a sweater and a pair of socks.”

“I’ll happily provide them if you promise to wear that and nothing else.”

Before she could answer there was a hard knock from downstairs and then the sound of the door. All the color drained from the herald’s face.

“My siblings were coming for Christmas.”

**Author's Note:**

> Hardwood floors are very cold. John's ranch house would be freezing with all that exposed wood.  
> I really want to write a second chapter! Maybe I will if I get through everything else. I want to break the ship fics up with gen ones, so that's next on the docket, but I don't know who'll star. After that it'll either be Sharky or Jacob though. Stay tuned!


End file.
